Monday, December 28

A Rule, a Rigmarole and a Heartbeat 

I have never been one for following a preset schtick or schedule, although my little girl has taught me the art of trying to dabble in it so as to simplify life. But like I said somewhere, I have spent about half my life trying to tone with convention and the other half defying it and at this point in my life, I go back and forth between the two. And in keeping with that, I have decided to put down a list of resolutions for the New Year. Nothing big, really, and if one is not careful, it could end up as yet another piece of post-it on the refrigerator, blinking brightly at one at the outset and losing its glow with the passage of time.

One of the things on this *list* is to slacken up a bit and not let the little things work the heat on the nerves. Especially the little things about the little one. So, a new vista opens to motherhood and I'm all set to fall right in and maybe even do a tap dance.

While we're on the topic of slackening up, we did the unthinkable yesterday. We went to the movies to watch the 3 Idiots in action, with the little one in tow. I put all my apprehensions to rest about that one, and it worked, like magic. Although it wasn't easy to explain to her why some forbidden words were being used by grown-ups, but we're getting there. So, after five years of non-movie-goer status, the hubby and I went for it, and he has even suggested we do it again. As one grows older, with life slipping away like sand through the fingers, one realizes that one has built walls and turned rock-like. The little pleasures of life come to mean little and one is always looking for the bigger picture, which, sadly, is often blurry and elusive. So one goes after it with increasing degrees of passion to only end up getting more frustrated. The slackening up mantra is critical for anyone, according to moi, who is going after the mirage of the big picture and losing focus on the little things. And something as silly and trivial as turning the guilt faucet off and letting the little thrills of enjoying a movie on the big screen as a parent spill over instead, can work wonders for the confused mind.

Even with cotton plugs in her ears and being blindfolded intermittently, my little one was patient and tantrum-free through the entire 2+ hour span, and my heart swells in pride over that. It's a little thing, perhaps insignificant in the pool of things that matter, but it still keeps the pool swirling and that makes mommy and daddy happier.

And as often happens with such things, the mind harks back to the days when my parents took us to the movies, and bought us the salted peanuts in paper cones to nibble on, before popcorn became the popular choice for movie-time snacking. Of course when the movies were for adults-only, I would be baby-sat by sis and bro, but those instances are few and far between in the memory. I think of all the things my mom gave up because of me, and how it never occurred to me as unrealistic then. How inconsiderate I often was about those things and how much I am able to fathom now, although to little avail. All just mottled time sheets in my mother's life as a homemaker, to which she has little access herself, thanks to the receding memory power. And putting thoughts down for now is only a way for me to be able to relive them later on, when the little bird has grown wings and taken flight to another nest, to live another life. It's in the knowledge of that truth - that my life and my thoughts will only be as significant to her as my mother's were to me - that the spasms of motherhood tick and beat. And yet those too will remain crucial in my own mind, my own memory, and learning to let go will be a lesson learnt only in the long run.

So, another day rolls and before the year closes in, the everyday song has to be sung and the little pieces put together in the hope that the puzzle will be solved a little more before inching towards that big thing called success.

And so..for he's a jolly good fellow and she, a jolly good lass..

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